


The Crystal Network

by lemurious



Series: Silmaril Valley [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Crack, Fourth Age, Gen, Palantír(i), Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29992281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemurious/pseuds/lemurious
Summary: Bilbo considers it only right and proper to celebrate his birthday. So what if he's in Valinor? The best way to invite his guests seems to be over the Palantírs..and this is the beginning of the Crystal Network.
Series: Silmaril Valley [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967905
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	The Crystal Network

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likethenight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethenight/gifts).



> Happy happy birthday to my marvelous, wonderful beta and friend [likethenight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethenight/pseuds/likethenight)! Thank you so much for your endless encouragement in writing and in life <3 my life is richer and more delightful for knowing you! <3

Although one gross was not generally considered an acceptable number for counting hobbits, it was highly satisfying to apply this count to one’s years, or so Bilbo thought while working in his prized garden in Valinor, trying to prevent his cactuses from dying in that excessively fertile soil. _One gross deserves a proper birthday party,_ he added to himself, _and a fun one it should be, now that there is no chance of a sudden invasion by the Sackville-Bagginses._

But how do they even celebrate birthdays here? Bilbo could not recall a single party, not even a single _mention_ of a birthday, since he had arrived to the Undying Lands. Well, he supposed, it was as good a time as any to introduce the locals to a proper hobbit birthday celebration, including gifts to all the guests in attendance. Bilbo had always been proud of selecting gifts to match his guests’ personalities, and he was not going to become sloppy only because he was not in Hobbiton anymore.

One problem still remained – Bilbo had not yet seen a Valarin or Elvish postman, or received a single letter. How would he invite his guests and tick off their meticulously handwritten responses? He could hardly borrow a pair of eagles to serve as carrier pigeons - even if Manwë felt uncharacteristically generous, the whole affair would probably end up with Bilbo being pecked to death, and while he was almost sure everyone would come to his funeral, it rather defeated his original purpose.

Bilbo complained about it to Frodo, who really should have been more interested in the proceedings since it was his birthday too, but he was still spending most of his time alone, recovering from his adventures, much like Bilbo himself had done for the first few decades after returning from Erebor. _Adventures_ , Bilbo thought. _Tearing one apart into pieces that never quite fit back together again. And yet._

Frodo, despite his hermitlike habits of refusing to see anyone but Sam and an occasional visit from one of the taller, grimmer sons of Fëanor, actually gave Bilbo useful advice: to announce his party on the Palantírs instead.

Bilbo retrieved his Palantír from where it was collecting dust in the back of the pantry and spent a few days mastering it, which included a few unfortunate announcements to the entire network followed by a strong of apologies. By the end of his efforts, every last Elfling was curious, Idril Celebrindal of i-Gondolin herself paid Bilbo a visit to install a firewall, while the poor hobbit kept sputtering like his own kettle out of embarrassment, and Bilbo finally sent his invitations.

The party was a success on all accounts. It snowed food and rained drink, Gandalf appeared as a surprise guest and launched a couple of fireworks that nearly took out Manwë’s windows, and the few re-embodied Noldor were so bemused at being instructed by Bilbo to sit at the same table as the Sindar guests in a voice that brokered no negotiations and was typically used on recalcitrant ponies, that they entirely forgot to revisit old quarrels. Eventually some guests were even persuaded to get up on the table for a dance or two, though the songs on the whole trended towards lengthy ballads, so Bilbo made a note for himself to double the ale and look for a different minstrel the next year. He also had to have a word with some of the invited Elves, who dared to compliment him on his _begetting_ day, as if, ahem, the process of begetting was a topic discussed in a proper hobbit household. (Of course it was, but _they_ did not know it, and it did one’s heart good to see Lord Thranduil turn beetroot-red and stammer his apologies).

Bilbo’s guests accepted their gifts most graciously after realizing that unlike the previous Lord of Gifts, this hobbit was unlikely to be an incarnation of Sauron. Bilbo was very proud of a trio of engraved wine glasses for Ecthelion, Glorfindel and Erestor, who were now working on expanding Glorfindel’s beauty empire, which due to Erestor’s formidable accounting skills grew ever wider, and living together in a house entirely beset by fountains. He had spent weeks hesitating over the two identical pens, plated in blue and gold with tiny eight-tipped stars, which he eventually decided to give to Elrond in memory of the birthday of his own and his twin, who, though he might have passed beyond the circles of the world many years ago, could have hardly left Elrond’s heart. He must have been correct, for Elrond fell silent for the rest of the night, but the light in his eyes shone stronger than Gandalf’s fireworks.

The rumors of the party did not die for nine nor ninety-nine days, and the other inhabitants of Valinor were sorely tempted to have birthday parties of their own, which presented some difficulties. At first, nobody knew the precise date of their birth, and then, after a certain number of awkward conversations, they could not quite tell each other when they were supposed to come visiting. Fortunately, the inseparable trio of Erestor, Glorfindel and Ecthelion came to the rescue, creating a Palantír network for sharing the upcoming parties, framed by a flaming announcement of the most gentle hair dyes that would guarantee that coveted Vanyar look on the most brunette Noldo, or vice versa, with the added explanation (“unless one should become entirely bald”) carefully hidden in a shadow.

Before long the haircare business was booming, and every Elf in Valinor (in addition to at least one hobbit) was spending their entire days on the new Crystal Network of the Palantírs. Their new pastime did not take long to replace such decidedly boring topics as ensuring the city still had running water and its stores did not run out of grain. The e-Twins (v.3, always added grumbling Elrond) were soon basking in their newfound fame, and their _Which Vala Am I Impersonating?_ show even reached the Balrog encampments in the far South of Valinor, though their votes were rather hard to decipher since they consisted solely of dancing flames of such brightness that they tended to crash the network.

The obsession with the Crystal Network continued in the typical single-minded fashion of the Elves, who, after all, could inhabit the same rather limited forest for a few millennia and not be compelled to find out what lay behind its borders. After a few months, Manwë noticed that the old praises and prayers were not coming in like they used to be, and declared a general council to be able to end this frivolity once and for all, ideally with a nice long stay in Mandos for the chief instigators. So Bilbo received a surprise invitation to the Court of the Valar, delivered over the very same Palantír. Well, he thought, how much worse could it really be than going to visit Smaug at the end of a dark tunnel?

“This has to stop!” Manwë roared. “I am trying to watch over the entire Middle-earth, ever vigilant against another Dark Lord rising from the ashes of the last one, and instead my Palantír is swamped with drivel! Just look at it!

_“Two-for-one birthday party: come join us in the celebration of the Original Twins! Before there were the e-Twins v.1, 2 or 3, the pranks of the Ambarussa were feared across these shores! Note: anyone pretending to utter an oath will be kicked out and banned from attending all future parties.”_

_“Send help: a stray fertility blessing over my garden resulted in overgrowth of tubers.”_

_“Extra taters are never a matter of concern – S. Gamgee, Gardener Extraordinaire of Western Aman at your service.”_

_“Glorfindel Haircare Shall Be Known As Cheats And Frauds Until The End Of Arda. Their latest dye made all my hair fall out!”_

_“Lord Mandos, if you expect to remain anonymous you may want to turn off the Prophecy Mode.”_

_“Wait, is that why he is always wearing a hood?”_

_“No Response Shall Be Given To Baseless Accusations.”_

Manwë frowned at that last one. “Námo?! Don’t you dare tell me that you have joined this too! And anyway, why did you try dying your hair?”

“Will you just think of it – who would ever invite the Lord of Judgment to one of their fabled birthday parties? At least with dark hair and a pair of sunglasses I might have passed for skulking Fëanorion.”

Now, Bilbo felt, that was something he could address.

“You are most welcome to my 145th birthday, Lord Mandos.” “As long as no dooms will be heard over ale and table-dancing”, he added after a thought.

“By the way, that dye is excellent!” interrupted Varda.

“You surely are not implying that…” Manwë was at a loss for words.

“Oh, right, I merely have entwined the stars in my hair. Together with all the exoplanets, I suppose. When have you _ever_ noticed my hair color?”

In his wisdom, Manwë decided to let that last phrase pass. Instead, he thundered at all the rest of the Valar, and one very concerned hobbit:

“Is _everyone_ involved in this absurd messaging?”

The Valar, as much as it was possible for divinities, shuffled uncomfortably.

Yavanna realized it was a matter of moments before the rest would point out her message from the list. “I have been receiving absolutely marvelous advice on growing tubers! Three Ages of practice can beat the best-crafted spell.”

“The same can be said about weapons...” Tulkas shyly addressed his own shoes. “The most magnificent of spears is no match for some of their machines.”

“I miss my apprentices! At least now they can learn proper smithing from me over the Palantír! Did you know that our network reaches as far as Erebor?” Aulë did not sound the least bit embarrassed.

“And when your poor Dwarves inevitably burn themselves, they can call me to learn first aid”, added Nienna.

“Anyway, Lord Manwë, we had no idea you would be against it!” Bilbo piped up to clarify the misunderstandings. “We all can see the transmission beacon right up on Taniquetil.”

“I do not even want to know who put it up there,” Manwë sighed, sensing a veritable rebellion, and, which was worse, possible marital strife at hand should he simply turn all the Palantírs off. “Just make sure the city markets are full and the sewers empty, or else I, as the lord of winds, will send clouds to block every single Palantír of yours.”

Bilbo thought it must signal the end of the audience and quickly snuck back. After all, he only had a few months to decide what gift would best befit Lord Mandos when he showed up at Bilbo’s 145th birthday party.


End file.
